Wrapped in Your Arms
by enyes
Summary: You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd say, "It's okay, Dad."


**WRAPPED IN YOUR ARMS**

The Impala hummed softly as John turns the engine on. He exhales sharply before kicking the gas pedal. His memory raced back to the thing he had just killed; a shapeshifter. And every time he thinks about the shape-shifting creature, he will remember about the innocence he had ripped from ones he loves the most.

John shook his head, trying to get his mind clear before starts driving back to the motel, where his boys await. Tonight he has killed another monster, stopping that thing from hurting people. And John believes, each time he killed one evil being, he will get closer to the thing that killed Mary.

* * *

Dean looks up to the clock; it's midnight already. He wonders when his father would come back from his hunting trip. His two years old brother Sam rolls to the other side of the bed. Dean watches his brother closely. He wishes he could sleep as peaceful as Sammy, but every time he closes his eyes, anxiety of something bad happening always haunting him.

Another yawn comes. He can feel the drowsiness over him. Dean decides to give up and crawls to bed, next to Sammy. He put his hand under the pillow, relieved when he can feel his .22. At least I got some protection with me, Dean thinks.

"Sweet dreams, Sammy," he whispered. With a sigh, Dean closes his eyes.

* * *

Dean dreams. He was in their house in Lawrence. His mother was alive, taking care of baby Sammy in the nursery. He was in the living room, watching some ball games in the television with his dad.

Dean loves this moment, when he can sit with his father, wrapped in his big arm so he could smell his greasy scent; the upshot of working as a mechanic all day. Dean found the scent somewhat relaxing. He lifted up his head to see his father's face. It was peaceful; it was embellished by a wide smile. And he looks younger. How he misses seeing that smile. How he misses being wrapped in his father's arm.

* * *

John picks the motel key from his pocket. He lifts his hand to peek at his watch; it's past midnight. He sure both of his boys must have been sleeping by now.

John enters the room quietly, trying not to wake his boys up. He glances at his sons. Sammy sleeps so tightly, his six year old brother is sleeping next to him. Dean wrapped his hand protectively around Sam. John sighed as he sees Dean. A good kid he is. John told him that Sam is his responsibility, and Dean took that order seriously. There was never once Dean leaves his brother unguarded. The way Dean treats Sam breaks their father's heart. Yet John is so proud to his eldest son.

John walks into the bed where Dean and Sam sleep. He sits in the edge of the bed, after Dean. Slowly, he caresses Dean's hair. He feels sorry for everything he had done to him, for bringing his sons into this kind of non normal life, for making Dean see him pulled the trigger to kill the shapeshifter when he was only three.

He can never forget the night he killed his first shapeshifter. He did it in front of Dean, which made him ask, "Why'd you kill him Dad?"

By that time John knew, Dean's life would never be the same.

* * *

Dean feels someone stroking his hair. When he opens his eyes, he finds his father sitting next to him. No wide smile on his father's lips as he saw in his dream, just a wrinkled face without expression.

"Dad, what happened?" Dean asks as he sits on the bed.

John's lips curved up. It was not a wide happy smile, but seeing his father smiles have relieved Dean much. "Nothing Son, just get back to sleep." John says as he stands up. He walks to the couch, grabbing a beer and drink it up.

Dean knows, something happened with his dead. He might be too young to know, but there's gotta be something he could do to lighten up his wrecked Dad. Dean gets up from his bed then walks toward his father. He hesitates, but without thinking twice, he puts his hand on John's shoulder, "It's okay, Dad." Dean stares deeply into his father's eyes, trying to ensure him that everything's gonna be fine.

John put his beer down. For a second, his vision blurs. He fights so hard so that the tears won't spill out.

"Come here, kid," he says as he patting the empty seat of the couch, letting Dean sits with him. Dean obediently crawls into the couch. He lays his head into his father chest as John wraps his arm around Dean. There's no trail of greasy scent on John's body, but that doesn't matter. It's the arm warping that relaxing Dean; it is what makes Dean feels safe. He lifts his head up, finding a smile with a burst of peace in his father's face.

Dean slowly closes his eyes. That night he knows, he would have a peaceful sleep.

* * *

**NOTE **I referred this story on a book, **John Winchester's Journal (Alex Irvine 2009, HarperCollins e-books) **and season 2's "In My Time of Dying".

**Please review :)**

**thanks for reading**


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